


epiphany

by madam_ypsilon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:58:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madam_ypsilon/pseuds/madam_ypsilon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One can never be too late with an important piece of information. Which is what Neville finds out when he digs up an old herbology essay and he finally realizes he might have a way to solve one particular puzzle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	epiphany

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluemermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemermaid/gifts).



> Thank you dear recipient for unconsciously reminding me of this snippet that had been stuck in my writing mills for eons. You mentioned potions and I stumbled upon this-one and then I said 'bingo!"

Neville would never forget the lesson where they were introduced to this strange beautiful plant. It was covered with a thin sticky layer that looked like silk from a distance and had a strange blue colour. But even professor Sprout didn't look too pleased. 

"Here's where it starts," she'd said, "you'd grow very fond of this tiny plant if you wouldn't know how large it can become, and how it can affect you." After that she started comparing the outside of it to a Veela. Neville had sniggered at first, but while they were busy cutting off the ends of all the top leaflets, he sometimes found himself staring blankly at the plant, and it seemed to stare back over the fingertips of his thick glove. And like the past two lessons Professor Sprout's warning rang out again before every pair went back to the plants they'd left behind. 

"Now remember everyone, please put on your gloves and if you accidentally touch one of these leaves with your bare hand, go and wash it off at once. And don't lick your fingers, don't let any of that juice touch your lips. It wants to be eaten, the more it grows the more you feel like you'd like to taste it, but don't give in."

Neville was with a small Hufflepuff girl he still hadn't got to know. They'd been together for the past two lessons, but he wouldn't get much more out of her than "Wow Neville, that's fantastic. You're doing great with this," or a surprised look or gasp if he started explaining something to her. She was far too amazed at everything he knew about plants and herbs. 

He'd started to go back again to telling someone what he knew when they needed help. The one thing that made him ask himself whether that was always the right thing to do was one horrible potions class when he finally knew the answer to a few questions he was asked and Snape could only glare at him as if to stare right through him and comment "well, if you're that good with plants, why don't you put it in practice here." Some Slytherins had grinned.

Malfoy had reminded him once too often that Herbology seemed to be the only subject he was good at. But it wasn't just the subject. It was the teacher as well. She was one of the few professors who wouldn't say too much about his lack of talent (for that's what he called it). He could make mistakes and cause some action even. Sometimes it even made the rest of his class laugh. But sometimes he was surprised at himself. 

This time they were cutting away small tulip-shaped bulbs that were said to hold a large amount of the plant's poisonous juice. Professor Sprout sometimes even said venomous, and that was enough for Neville to try to keep away from them. But sometimes it felt like eyes were beckoning him towards one of those tiny flowers. And this plant in front of him seemed very eager to offer him a drink. He pondered why it was so dangerous to try some of it if the plant itself wanted to give it away. And it didn't look grim or nasty either. In fact it looked like a tiny wine glass filled with a creamy kind of drink. If someone told him that this was a new brand of liquor, he'd immediately believe it. But on the stem were some thin nasty leaves with stings, as if they where taken straight from a cactus. He should know this was enough to keep someone out of the way already.

But his glove got stuck between long thorns and only his hand slipped out of it, dangling in the air above one of the tiny tulip shapes. Neville tried to lower it to catch his glove. With the other hand, he wanted to pick up his wand. But both hands seemed to have a will of their own. The right one suddenly touched one thick bulb at the top, which sprang open at once and gave a tiny gleeful shriek, as if something had finally been released. He knew he should have stepped back or run off to the other side of the class. Instead he'd let the sleeve of his robes become utterly soaked with the strange greenish stuff and his gloveless hand was now covered in it as well. From far away he heard Professor Sprout's stern voice: "Neville! I've warned the entire class five times and you of all people decide to lose track." But what did it matter? Everything was fine now, wasn't it? Everything was whole, complete. It was all clear, or it was to him, at least. The last bubble gum he'd got from his mother, the gum she'd put in her mouth, his grandmother giving his mother one of her looks, and his dad laughing at the loud popping noise which he assumed came from the gum...

And now, after five years of assisting his favourite professor, after another batch of fifth-years had tried to tackle the very same plant and he'd dug up the notes and drawings he made back then, he thought again of those five minutes. The moment his skin was soaked by that strange green juice, it seemed to at least temporarily help him fill a few gaps in his memory. It was enough to solve a few bits of the puzzle for him, and it didn't make him any less clumsy than before. But it was apparently enough to make him write down "could this be it?" Could it? Would this be part of a way to give someone back the memories they'd lost? Come to think of it, it was as sinister as the feeling you'd get when you came too near to a pack of Dementors, but it felt friendlier, less suffocating. He could at least try to experiment with it. It made Neville laugh, the idea of the worst potions student of Harry's year trying to invent something new. But what if it could be done? What if it was already sorted out and he had just never properly looked in the right place? His grandmother would never hear of any of his ideas to try to get his parents back. All she ever told him was that they had been tortured for too long and perhaps even Obliviated, and there was nothing you could do about it.

For the umpteenth time, Neville reread the school essay he wrote about the plant. Why was this just a summary of all the stuff he'd learned by heart from the book? Why had he never asked Professor Sprout any of his own questions? At last he tore off an empty piece of parchment and picked up a quill. He could write this essay again and hand it in a second time. And this time he'd be sure to write down his theories, even if they still sounded far-fetched. Neville wrote down all the old facts, and then he started in about the Dementors, about the stories Harry had told him about the weird potion that Dumbledore had forced himself to drink in order to get to that fake Horcrux. If someone could brew something that brings back your memories in worse ways than Dementors do, how come we never heard of a friendlier potion that only fixes the holes and helps you solve the riddles? Neville kept writing, about the lesson in which he spilled the juice from the plant on his skin, when he had felt bits and pieces of his earliest youth slowly seeping into his mind, and about the one thing he could think once he'd noticed the effect wearing off. There had to be more.

If his parents could get their senses and their identities back by merely taking some kind of potion, why had no-one at St Mungo's been able to make one? And his next thought was even more unusual than the last few. What if everyone who had been in the know had left it up to him, Neville, to solve this puzzle? What if they'd given Harry the task to fulfill that prophecy, and Neville a reason to find out everything he could learn about plants?

The ink wasn't even half dry but it didn't matter. He rolled up the scroll and rushed down to Professor Sprout's office, bursting the door open without even knocking. Luckily she was there, and thankfully alone. 

"What-the-" was all she could say when a blotted piece of parchment landed on her desk and unfolded itself. For five minutes she sat there reading, until at last she turned towards him and beamed. 

"Fantastic," she said. "as Albus would say, one can never be too late with an important piece of information." She stood up and smiled. 

"I think you're right Neville, there has to be more."


End file.
